Promise Not To Tell
by gsrshipper
Summary: Sequel to Love, Laughter, and Life. Who will figure out their secret first? Grissom and Sara have a little bet. Winner gets more than just bragging rights. WIP [GSR]
1. Chapter 1

**Due to the awesome feedback on _Love, Laughter, and Life_, I've decided to write a sequel. If anyone hasn't read that, I suggest/encourage you to read it first (reviews don't hurt either). Thanks to everyone that does review, it really makes my day. And though I personally think I have no sense of humor, some people have suggested to label my stories Romance/Humor instead of General/Romance...so I guess I'll give it a shot. Anyway, I wish this would happen on CSI, but since there is no chance of that happening, I might as well make it a fic right?**

**Summary:Sequel to _Love, Laughter, and Life. _The CSIs are noticing a change in Grissom's behavior. Who will be the first to discover the reason for his happiness?**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own CSI.

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****Promise Not To Tell

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The entire gang was in the break room, everyone except one certain entomologist. Sara, Warrick, and Nick were seated around the table—the boys playing imitation football with a paper triangle while Sara attempted to read a magazine. Greg was busying himself with a fresh pot of coffee as Catherine was sprawled out rather gracefully on the couch, muttering into her phone. "I know Lindsey…and we _will_ go. Just not this week."

Sara looked up in time to see Catherine scowl and snap her phone shut. "Trouble with the daughter?"

Catherine glared and shook her head, "I don't know were she inherited her stubbornness from."

"Oh…I can imagine…" Sara murmured, eyes trained on the magazine in front of her, and mouth forming a tight smirk.

Catherine stared at her with a look of distaste, "I can't imagine what your children will be like, Sara." She smirked as Sara's own disappeared.

She looked up from her magazine and raised her eyebrows. "Even if I wanted children—which I _obviously_ don't—I'd make sure they wouldn't make the same mistakes I did," Sara mused. "They'd be smart, as well as funny and social."

Nick and Warrick suppressed grins as their game continued. Nick flicked the "football" lightly. It slid a few inches, part of it sticking past the edge of the table. "Touchdown! What's that now? 20-6? Come on bro, you can do better than that."

Warrick shook his head as he held up his hands, forming a makeshift field goal post. Just as Nick aimed and prepared to take his shot, Catherine added, "The smart part I get. But between you and Grissom…good luck with funny and social."

Warrick lowered his hands in shock just as Nick let the paper football fly. It hit him dead on in between the eyes. Both the boys paid no attention to it whatsoever though, as their mouths hung open and their eyes twinkled with humor.

Sara could feel the heat rising to her face. Warrick and Nick were both staring at Catherine, obviously in shock, but suppressing their laughter. Catherine stared at Sara, completely amused with her eyebrows raised, chewing slightly on the end of her pen. And poor Greg didn't know how to react as he fumbled with the coffee machine, a hint of a smirk also trying to be hidden. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," she remarked.

"Hear what?"

All eyes turned to the door to see Grissom walk in, glasses low on the bridge of his nose, his field hat perched on top of his head, and an assignment sheet in hand.

That did it.

Nick and Warrick both started to chuckle as Grissom stared at them, bemused. His head whipped around to the former DNA tech as Greg wheezed. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, just talking about genetics," Catherine replied. She flopped into the seat next to Sara, throwing her pen down and tinkering with her phone in the process. Sara shot her a warning glance as she stood up. Catherine watched as she headed for the refrigerator, swiftly adding, "Sara wants her children to be smart, _as well as _funny and social."

Grissom glanced at Sara—who paused in the middle of retrieving an apple, looking either avoidant or dangerously pissed. She had never mentioned the prospect of having children in her future in the time they've been together, and he had never assumed she wanted any. Grissom was obviously at an age when fatherhood is an unlikely option, but Sara's chances and hopes of becoming a mother were still there. His right eyebrow jerked up in question.

Sara gave her head a quick shake, semi-slammed the fridge door, and fumed in Catherine's direction, "I said I'd want my children to be smart, funny, and social…_IF_ I _wanted_ children!" She frowned as she reclaimed her chair next to Catherine's—easing her nerves by taking a bite out of her apple.

"And _I _told her if that was the case—good luck." Catherine smirked at Grissom. She was in a good mood today, unfortunately for Grissom and Sara. "Because if genetics play a factor, funny and social is hard to come by between the two of you.

Sara flushed again, desperately trying to avoid looking anywhere near Grissom's face—so she settled on sending Catherine an infuriating look while she continued to munch on her apple ravenously. The three younger CSI boys watched her squirm in amusement, and Grissom couldn't help but love how adorable she looked when she was embarrassed. Catherine stared at him expectedly, mouth partially open, and tongue peeking out the corner— waiting for his discomfort. He grinned as he decided to give her something _unexpected_, "Well, at least our children would be smart." He flashed his grin at Sara, whose head snapped up at his reply. "They could always _learn_ to be funny and social," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Everyone gaped at him including Sara, who paused in mid-bite of her apple. Catherine even blinked for good effect. "Since when did _you _get a sense of humor?" she demanded sarcastically at the same time Sara decided to swallow a piece of the fruit. She coughed and pounded her chest, hearing the familiar question and remembering his response to it. Surely, he wouldn't say the same thing _this _time.

Grissom pondered for a moment, before deciding on an answer. "About the same time I got this hat," he replied, pointing to the offending object resting on his head. 'Slick…' Sara mused, but still stared at him in shock, remembering their conversation a week ago. Was he _insane_? Did he _want _them to be suspicious of their relationship?

Warrick and Nick chuckled as Catherine continued to stare at him like he was an alien. Greg shook his head, "Well, that makes sense—wearing that thing will definitely draw laughs. Sorry boss, but that hat is _fugly_…with a capital F."

"_Fugly?_"

Greg grinned and nodded, "Yeah…you know…_fuc—_"

"—Ah. I get it," Grissom nodded back.

"Seriously Gil, why would you even spend a penny on that monstrosity?" Catherine asked, giving his head a look of disgust.

Sara blushed as she knew full-well that _she _was the one who bought it for Grissom. It was sort of a one week anniversary gift. Through the first week of their relationship, they talked. And talked. _And talked_. Sara remembered practically banging her head on her dining table one night after he left, annoyed with the lack of physical progress. But through those talks, they learned more about each other—and Sara in turn learned about their mutual distaste for the sun.

"_Really? You?" He nodded. "But you tan so well."_

_Grissom blushed, "Doesn't mean I like it."_

"_I'll think of something," Sara grinned as he raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky. Hours in the sun with the only consequence being a tan. Just thirty minutes in the sun, and I get burned._

_He smirked, "I'll think of something." _

Feeling Sara's eyes on him, he smiled. "I didn't. It was a gift."

"_Stay here," Sara demanded as she retreated to her bedroom. Grissom watched her saunter down the hall and smirked. He put his back to her bedroom as he pulled a small bag from under his coat. Suddenly, he felt something land on his head, causing him to flinch and jerk up awkwardly._

"_Call it a one-week anniversary gift," Sara's voice came from behind him._

_Grissom turned to face her and frowned as he plucked the object from his head. Looking at it as if he smelled something rotten, he asked, "What's it for?"_

"_You to wear," Sara said with a 'duh' tone._

_He glared at her playfully._

"_For the sun," she laughed._

_Grissom grinned. "In that case…" he said, handing her the little bag._

"_What's this?"_

"_Call it a one-week anniversary gift." _

_Pursing her lips at him, she pulled out a bottle from the bag. Mimicking his look of distaste, she repeated his previous question, "What's it for?"_

"_You to wear," he mimed dutifully. _

_She returned his playful glare._

_Snatching the bottle of sun-block from her, he laughed. "For the sun."_

Catherine snorted, "And I thought _you _were the only one with no fashion." Grissom frowned. "But I guess it rubs off on your friends, too."

"What friends?" Nick blurted. Warrick laughed; Greg brought his coffee mug to his mouth to hide the smile. "Well, I mean…" Nick looked around helplessly at Grissom's glare, "…I thought all your friends were in this room."

Grissom glared harder.

Sara shook her head and smirked at her co-workers impotence, "Stop talking, Nick. You're making things worse."

Grissom held up a hand, "Enough. No offense taken, Nick—but this hat was a gift from someone very special." He purposefully avoided looking at Sara. "Now can we get to assignments?"

Nick and Warrick questioned at the same time Catherine firmly stated, "Your mother."

He frowned and effectively changed the subject. "One case so far: double homicide at the Tangiers. All hands except me, but as soon as anything new comes in, I'll be splitting you up. Catherine, you're primary."

"Let me guess? Paperwork?" she said as she snatched the slip from his hands.

Grissom nodded, "Unfortunately."

As he turned to leave, Catherine remarked, "At least take that ridiculous hat off if you aren't going out in the field."

"Sorry, New Year's resolution…improve my wardrobe," he replied with an unseen smirk as he trekked down the corridor. Sara smiled at the real reason he chose to wear the 'fugly' hat. He did it for her—rather for her to stop complaining about the fact he never wears the Hawaiian-ish shirt she bought him.

Rolling her eyes, Catherine addressed the rest of the CSIs, "Something's up with him lately."

"Like what?" Sara asked innocently. She took a final chomp out of her apple. Standing up, she flung the core over Catherine and into the trashcan.

Warrick grinned at her, "Ever thought of becoming a basketball player?"

Sara merely shrugged in reply.

"I think that Grissom's finally getting some action," Greg said with a wink. "If you know what I mean…"

The red began to creep up Sara's neck again as Nick and Warrick's noses scrunched up in disgust. Her mind wandered to what took place at their house before shift. As the blush reached her cheeks, Catherine noted, "He has been in a much better mood this year."

Warrick scoffed, "At least _someone's _getting laid."

"Trouble in paradise?" Nick jabbed playfully. Catherine's ears perked up slightly as she stood to leave.

"What'cha talking about? I was referring to you," he replied, elbowing his friend as they got up and exited the room.

Greg lingered behind and observed Sara's sheepish look, "What's wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing."

"Picturing Grissom getting busy with some chick?" he quipped.

At that, Sara couldn't help but smirk. Walking toward the parking lot with Greg on her tail, she decided against responding to his playful question. 'I don't need to picture it. I'm experiencing it,' she mused inwardly.

Greg squinted in confusion at the smirk playing on her lips. "What's on your mind, Sara?"

Her smirk only grew, "If you only knew, Greggo."

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TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: Major fluffiness. Due to the fact that GSR is now canon, I figure our geeks should be more happy rather than moody (which is very unfortunately for my other WIP). _But_ for those who dislike fluff, you have been warned.**

**Anyway, review and let me know if it's too OOC. Kind of hard to write a happy-Grissom and happy-Sara without having it be OOC, so I'm up for any suggestions.**

**See Chapter 1 for the summary. I don't have a beta for this so all errors, grammatical or otherwise, are mine.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters...yada yada yada. **

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Tossing the keys on the counter, Grissom shuffled through the mail. 'Sara Sidle, from Bank of America…Sara Sidle, _Forensics Weekly Magazine_…Sara Sidle, _The Art of Forensic Science_…' he read mutely as he tossed her mail in a separate pile. 'Gil Grissom, _Applied Psychodynamics in Forensic Science_...Gil Grissom, from Federal Grant Bureau…' His eyebrow arched as he neared the end of the pile. 'Sara Sidle, _Victoria's Secret Catalog?'_

"Hey," a voice startled him from behind.

He spun around, amused to find a sleepy Sara Sidle running a towel through her damp hair. He gave her an once-over and pursed his lips at her 'science' pajamas. Truth be told, he was jealous. He remembered the first time he saw Sara wear them to bed, and how he wished he shopped more. That way, he too might have found unique pajamas covered in beakers and graduated cylinders, instead of sleeping in boxers and sweats. "Hi sweetheart." He grinned and held up the catalog, "When did you order this?"

Sara blushed and closed the distance between them. Slapping him forcefully on the hip with her wet towel, she made a mock-frown. "And _why_ are you reading _my_ mail?"

Grissom tossed the catalog aside and grasped her wrists, effectively stopping her from physically abusing him. He noticed she smelled of soap and conditioner—a fragrance that was plain yet so uniquely Sara. "Did not," he replied innocently, "It was in plain sight; it's not like I opened anything." Snaking his arms around her waist, he pulled her into his embrace. "And plus, it's not my fault you're too lazy to get the mail."

Just as Sara was about to give a dry reply, she felt his lips land on her neck. "Wha—um…" She closed her eyes for the briefest second before reality came rushing back. As much as she was enjoying his ministration, it had to unfortunately come to a stop. She shoved him lightly on his chest, causing him to purse his lips at her in confusion. "What's gotten into you lately?" Sara demanded with a slap to his arm.

"Hey!" Grissom yelped as he threw his arms up in defense. "What? I can't kiss my girlfriend?"

"That, I don't mind. It's the work-Grissom I'm worried about," she replied, dragging him down the hall.

She tugged him to the bedroom, where he stopped at the closet and removed his jacket. Hanging it neatly on a clothes hanger, he questioned, "And what's wrong with the 'work-Grissom?'"

"What's wrong?" Sara gave him a pointed look as she removed her necklace. "What's _wrong_? Catherine was being a little…" Not finding the word she was searching for, she shook her head briefly and continued. "Catherine was clearly trying to embarrass us. And she succeeded in doing so to me. But _you._ _You _tried to be funny."

"_And?_"

Sara scoffed at his blank stare. "_And?_ You're. Not. Funny." Upon seeing his look of hurt, she added, "Not at work, that is." This seemed to settle with him better as he gave her a slight grin. "The Gil Grissom everyone knows would have given her the 'Grissom-glare,' and moved on to assignments. What happened to the sulking-Grissom everyone loves to hate?"

Grissom removed his shirt and pants, walked up behind her, and grinned. He wrapped his arms around her waist and threw her on the bed in a very ungraceful move, evoking a shriek. Joining her on the paisley sheets, he remarked, "He got a life." He couldn't help but smirk as Sara raised an eyebrow, "Or better yet…a girlfriend."

"That's exactly my point," she said, jabbing her index finger on his nose. "Do you _want _us to be exposed?"

Grissom laughed and brushed her hand away, "Relax. I was just having a little fun with them. Call it an experiment of sorts."

"Experiment?"

"I'm disappointed in them, actually." Grissom let out a dramatic sigh, "I figured I trained them better than this. Either we're great actors, or their observation skills obviously aren't as sharp as I thought they were."

She grinned and got under the covers. "I think it's the former. It's not like we're giving them blatant evidence—not even Ecklie notices anything different in our behavior."

"_That_ doesn'tsurprise me," he replied, "Ecklie couldn't find evidence if it fell in his lap."

"Oh relax, Gris. It's not them—_we_…are just professional at work," she smiled at him as he slid under the covers. "And that's how we're supposed to be."

"What if I don't want to be?"

"What?"

Grissom shook his head at the sound of her gasp, "No. Not like that. I mean…what if…I don't want to be discreet anymore?"

"Who are you and what have you done with Grissom?" she asked, shock and sarcasm both evident in her voice.

He slid his hands under the blankets and sought out hers. Finding them, he intertwined their fingers, "I meant it. What if I want to be able to kiss you goodbye when you leave for a different scene? Or just even say 'bye, I love you?'"

"This coming from the man who prefers _eating _in private?" she asked incredulously.

"You make me not want to be that man, Sara."

She shook her head. "I don't want you to change for me, Grissom. I love the fact you're a private person. It doesn't make me love you any less."

"I know. But I want to remind you how real this is wherever we are." He closed his eyes briefly. "It took us so long to…" Sara tilted her head up and gave him the patented pointed look. "It took _me _so long to get to this point," he corrected, "And I want to spend every minute making up for it."

She gave him a sad smile in return. "I'd like that. Believe me I would…but you know what the consequences are. Even if Ecklie doesn't give us crap about it, any dirty lawyer for the defense would. It could ruin cases we've built—people can twist our relationship and mold it for their own purposes. You remember the Tom Haviland case don't you?"

Grissom nodded. "Yeah, I know." He sighed dejectedly, "I just wish it were different."

She unlocked her left hand from his grip and stroked his cheek, "I know—so do I." Giving him an encouraging smile, she added, "But hey! You can always be happy/funny-Grissom at work." She smirked, "I could definitely get use to that, and I'm sure the rest of the gang could, too."

"Are you saying you don't like moody-Grissom?" he asked playfully, feeling a little foolish for addressing himself in third-person.

Sara laughed, "You were moody-Grissom for the past five years, yet I still—for some unthinkable reason—loved you. But happy-Grissom is…"

He stared at her as she trailed off.

Her lips were pursed in thought. Finally, she gave him a warm smile. "Happy-Grissom is the one that convinced me to stay in Vegas." She paused, leaning forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. "He's the one I _originally_ fell in love with," she whispered.

Grissom grinned. "In _that _case. Happy it is." He wrapped his arms tightly around her body, spooning himself behind her. "And that way…I wouldn't even need to be acting," he added, sliding his hand underneath her shirt.

She snorted, "_Now _you're just sucking up."

"Am not," he replied innocently, eyes sparkling with humor. "You make me happy," he said seriously as he nipped her ear.

"Mmmm…that would _definitely _make everyone suspicious."

Grissom shrugged, "If they find out…they find out. I'll just threaten them to secrecy."

Sara flipped over, removing his hand from her stomach to face him. "Gil Grissom? Playing dirty?"

"There _are _certain advantages to being boss."

Rolling her over, his lips descended on hers as he began to fumble with the buttons of her top. Sara moaned into his mouth—their tongues dueling for control. Breaking away, she sucked in some air. "Like what?" she questioned while his fingers continued down her chest.

"Like…" he gave her a seductive smirk. "…Telling my subordinates what I want done—and have them do it without question," he finished as his hands opened her shirt and found her breasts.

"Well…I've always had a problem with authority," Sara grinned evilly and pushed him off. Flipping him onto his back, she straddled his thighs suggestively and flung the remainder of her top off. It had been over a week since they had sex, and anything over two days without sex with Grissom was considered a drought. "I don't think I ever made it up to you last week…" she murmured, hooking her fingers in the waistband of his boxers.

"Better late than never." Pulling her down, he latched on to her neck, savoring the taste of Sara Sidle. 'It's been way to long,' he thought, while continuing to lap and suck on her skin.

She pulled down on his boxers, "Take these—" Grissom let out a groan of despair as she was interrupted by the ringing of his cell. Locking eyes with her as she perched above him, he sighed. She rolled off him reluctantly, as he remained unmoving. Giving him a little nudge, she chided, "Just answer it, Grissom."

Scowling, he snatched the nosy object from the nightstand. Briefly checking the caller ID, he growled into the phone, "Grissom."

Sara stared at the ceiling, listening to his side of the conversation. "What do you want?...No, I'm busy." Grinning, she turned over and slid a hand up his chest. "Uh—what? I mean, can't you ask Warrick?" He slapped her hand away and sat up, "No no! I uh, you don't need to come over." Sara's eyes widened. She and Grissom never told anyone they moved—well, technically Grissom still owned his townhouse and everything in it. He just wasn't living in it. "Ok fine, I'll be over in a minute."

Snapping his phone shut, Grissom glanced over at her. "Honey…"

She smiled at him warmly, "Whatever it is, I understand."

"It's another woman," he replied seriously as he got up and put on his clothes.

Sara didn't know whether to frown or grin. "Riiight," she drawled.

Fully dressed, he dived back onto the bed, left arm tackling her down. He planted a sloppy kiss on the corner of her mouth and grinned. "At least she puts out," he said teasingly.

"Keep that up—" Giving her one last kiss just to shut her up, he shimmied off the edge of the bed and headed for the door. "I'll be back soon."

"Gris?" He poked his head back through the bedroom door. "Tell Catherine I said hi."

He laughed and quietly shut the door behind him.

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The door swung open just as he lifted his hand up to knock. "Thank you, Gil!" a huffing Catherine greeted him on the other side. She was zipping up her jacket hastily, grabbing her purse and keys off the end table.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, "The things I do for you…"

"Please," she responded, flipping her bangs from her eyes. "Reading an entomology textbook in bed is not considered being busy." Smirking at his fixed stare, she added, "Grab whatever you want from the fridge. My mom's flight should be landing soon, so I'll be back in about an hour." She paused a second before exiting. "Make sure she finishes her homework before school starts."

Grissom sighed, thinking about what was waiting for him at his own home. Grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, he headed down the hallway, pausing at the second door to the right. "Let me guess? Got suckered into babysitting?" a voice called from inside the room.

He cocked his head at the blonde-haired teenager, partly taken aback at how much her voice sounded like her mother's. She didn't even look up at him—eyes trained on the notebook in front of her smacking her gum loudly and tapping her pen irritably. "What are you working on?" he asked, taking a step inside the room.

Lindsey turned and glared at him, "Math. Are you taking me to school today?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

She shook her head, glazing back down at her homework, "Whatever."

Grissom approached her desk, setting his water bottle down. "I haven't seen you in a while have I?"

"Miss me that much, Gil?

"Why yes. I do."

Lindsey rolled her eyes, "I was wondering who mom was calling. Ever since Warrick got married, he never comes around anymore, so I suddenly get a grandmother in my life." She whined, "I'm fourteen. When's mom going to realize it's legal for me to stay home alone now?"

Grissom grinned, "Trust isn't given; it has be earned."

Scowling at him, she thrust her algebra book in his face. "I trust _you_ to be a good babysitter and help me finish this."

He gave her a wry smirk at being called a 'babysitter.' Grissom was many things, but a babysitter was not one of them. "And what do I get out of it?" he teased playfully.

"Um…I _could _tell you what mom's been saying about you," she grinned evilly as Grissom's eyebrow shot up. "But that'll be betraying her _trust._"

"Smart-aleck. Just like your mother."

Conveying a look of disgust, she asked, "Are you going to help me or what? School starts in less than an hour."

After quickly running through a page of algebraic equations with Lindsey, they hopped into his car and set off for her school. He stole glances at her along the way, seeing so much of Catherine in her daughter. Lindsey was obviously not stupid. Even when helping her with math, Grissom realized that she could do anything as long as she set her mind to it. Her voice brought him out of his thoughts, "Thanks for the help."

"No problem," he replied, smiling slightly. "So are you going to tell me what your dear old mother's been gossiping about?"

She shrugged, "Not much. Nick was over one morning, talking to mom about a case. I overheard them saying how they thought you have a 'secret woman' in your life."

Grissom kept his eyes trained on the road as he approached the school. "Oh?"

"Yep," she nodded. "They think it's Sara." Grissom's eyebrow shot up as he pulled the car to a stop. "Mom said she just needed proof." Lindsey gave him a grin as she opened the door and hopped out. Swing her backpack over her shoulders, she smiled. "Thanks Gil."

He nodded and returned the smile, "Have fun at school."

"You know…" she started, leaning inside the open window. "She has a point. You do seem happier." Giving him a final 'thanks,' she headed toward the building, joining a group of girls.

Grissom shook his head and couldn't repress his smirk as he dove home to the cause of his new-found happiness.

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He opened the bedroom door slowly; eyes settling on the sleeping form sprawled out on the sheets. Quietly stripping down to his sleeping attire, he slipped under the covers next to her, unable to resist slinging an arm around her waist and panting a kiss near her ear. "Mmmph," came out a groan as she rolled over.

"Shh, go back to sleep."

The damage was done however as Sara opened her eyes slightly and squinted at him. Sitting up a little, she yawned. "What took you so long?"

"Had to take Lindsey to school. Catherine had to pick up her mother from the airport," he replied, pulled her back down on the bed. "Go back to sleep."

Her eyes shut, but her mouth kept moving. "How is Lindsey?"

"Grown up," he said somewhat wistfully as he hand stroked her stomach. "I feel old. Seems like the last time I saw her, she was still playing with barbies."

Cracking open an eye, she grinned at him. "I never liked barbies."

Grissom smiled and pulled her closer, "She did say something interesting though."

"Oh?"

"Apparently, Catherine and Nick think I have a secret woman in my life." This captured Sara's attention and her eyes immediately popped open. She propped herself up on her elbow, waiting for him to continue. "They suspect it's you."

She puckered her lips. "Welll…" she drawled. "They aren't exactly wrong."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"What do you mean?" she laughed. "What _can _we do? If Catherine and Nick think there's something going on…let them prove it themselves," she said with an evil grin.

"Should we…throw them off?" Grissom inquired.

Sara shook her head slightly, still grinning uncontrollably. "As in plant faulty evidence?"

He grinned back, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"I think…" She leaned forward and gave him a nip on the neck. "If we just act normal…they won't catch on." The rest of the gang obviously hadn't noticed anything that proved she and Grissom were in a relationship, or someone would have definitely mentioned something. She laughed inwardly at the thought. Four trained investigators—and they couldn't see what was happening right under their noses.

"I think you underestimate how well I've trained them."

She rolled her eyes, "Please. You're the one who said you were disappointed in them, eariler. If anything…I bet Greg finds out first. Technically, _I _trained him."

"If we ever _are_ busted, Catherine will be the one who figures it out," Grissom corrected.

"I still say it's either Greg or Nick."

"Trust me. When Catherine thinks she's on to something, she'll stop at nothing until she solves the mystery."

Sara yawned again and snuggled herself into his chest. "We'll just have to wait and see, then," she muttered, poking a finger into his soft mid-section.

"Have I been wrong before?" At the rise of her head, he corrected, "At least when it comes to our relationship?" Her eyebrow shot up and he chuckled, "I mean—_after _we got together." She strained her head upward, giving him a pointed look. Grissom laughed, "Okay, never mind."

"Stop talking," she demanded lightly. "I'm tired."

Her words vibrated across his chest, prompting him to close his eyes as well. After moments of silence, he stated, "It's going to be Catherine."

She scowled, biting his chest lightly. "You just _have _to get the last word in don't you?"

He grinned, cracking open an eye. "No. I just love to argue with you."

"Huh," she huffed, pulling her head back to glare at his face. "And what happens if it _is _Greg who figures it out first?"

"I'll take you out to dinner," he replied seriously.

She threw a fist into his padded stomach, "Too late for that."

He chuckled. "Ok, then…" Grissom responded in thought, "I'll buy you some earrings."

"I don't like earrings."

Grissom frowned. "Ok, what about a ring?" he said, his frown suddenly morphing into a smirk.

"Depends. What kind of ring?" Sara prodded.

"A promise ring," he replied after a moment's thought in a matter-of-fact tone.

Pushing herself up to be at eye-level with him, she whispered, "What kind of promise?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

She smiled and grasped his hand, bringing them up to her lips. Placing a soft kiss on his fingertips, she nodded. "Deal."

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TBC...

**Ok, so...too fluffy? Too OOC? Review and let me know; good or bad--it doesn't matter. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Ack, sorry for the VERY late update, but reality is really hectic right now. Anyway, this is a very LONG chapter...so I hope everyone who _was_ reading is still willing to continue on. I promise my next update will be sooner!**

**Thanks to everyone that's been reviewing. You all are awesome:)**

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_August 10, 2006: Two weeks later_

"So…"

Grissom looked up from his meal and quirked an eyebrow at Sara. "So?"

"Your birthday's next week," she stated as she wiped alfredo sauce from her lips. "Excited?"

"No." He paused. "I'm old."

She genuinely laughed. "You aren't old, Gris. You're…elderly?" He shot her a look which made her laugh even more. "Okay fine…you're ancient! Happy?"

"Sara…"

She shook her head and reached across the table to grasp his hand. "Grissom, I'm serious." Seeing him purse his lips, she added, "_Not_ about the ancient part." Giving him a soft smile, she continued, "You should be excited about your birthday. What do you want anyway?"

"I have everything I want."

"Humor me."

Grissom squeezed her hand. "Now it's my turn to be serious." He put down the fork that was loosely gripped in his free hand. "The only thing I've ever wanted over the years was something I knew—or thought—I could never have." Giving Sara a pointed look, he finished, "I have that now."

She blushed. "As sweet as that was Gris…it doesn't make my job in finding you a gift any easier."

He shrugged as he stood up with his plate. "Surprise me." Dumping plate and utensils in the sink, he smirked at her. "I want something that only you can give me."

Sara smirked seductively and got up to wrap her arms around him. "You can have that anytime you know?"

"Actually…" he pulled back a little. "There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you."

Her eyebrow rose automatically. "Oh?"

Rubbing his hands up and down her arms, he looked away. "I sort of told the doctors that I would take care of Jim when he's able to check out. They suggested that someone should stay with him while he recovers."

"Oh." She paused and tightened her hold on him. "For how long?"

"Two weeks to a month," Grissom stated nonchalantly. "I was thinking that I could just go back to my townhouse. Just wipe the dust that's been building up, and move some of my stuff back there."

Sara sighed and rested her chin on his shoulder. "I don't know if I could stand living alone for that long." She blushed as she realized that words that came out of her mouth. "I—I mean, I'm just use to…" Her cheeks reddened as she stammered and pushed herself away from his comforting arms.

Risking a glance at Grissom, she was surprised to find him smiling at her sympathetically. "Sara…I know what you mean. I feel the same way," he said as he made a successful grab for her hand.

"So why don't we just tell him?" she blurted.

His lips pursed and his eyebrow rose. "You'll be okay with that?"

"Would you?" she challenged.

"Sara…"

Oh how she hated when he said her name like that. "I'm just saying. Brass could stay here, and we both could help him through his recovery." She batted the air wildly with her free hand, gesturing in harmony to her words. "I trust him to keep our secret. He is your best friend after all."

"Catherine would argue with that," he said, shrugging.

"Stop it." She tried to punch him with both of their entwined hands. "I'm serious; I don't want to spend a month in this big empty house."

"And I don't want you to," he replied, pulling her back into his embrace. Letting his mouth run quickly over hers, he added, "What about our bet?"

Sara pulled away and flopped on the couch dramatically. "What bet?"

"Uhh, a week ago…"

"Oh yeah, that." She pursed her lips and looked up as he loomed over her. "I don't really care, we can call it off—seeing as how neither of us picked Brass."

Grissom smirked as he joined her on the couch, "Ah, but Brass isn't going to find out; we're going to tell him. _And_, he's not a CSI. So technically, he doesn't count."

"Do you really care?" she said as he kicked off his shoes. "Or are you _that_ adamant to prove me wrong."

His arms raised in self-defense as he shifted her legs onto his lap. "Just want to be fair."

She laughed, "Ok so what was it you wanted anyway? I get a 'promise ring' if Greg figures it out first. What do you get?"

Grissom pondered for a moment, "If Catherine figures it out first…Ernest gets a spot on the vanity in our room."

Sara's face automatically scrunched up in disgust. "No way! I don't want to sleep in the same room as that thing!"

"Thing?"

"Grissom, it's a _tarantula_!"

"Yes, _he's_ a tarantula. But he's harmless, Sara." He leaned over her to nuzzle her neck. "It's such a hassle to check up on him in the guest bedroom. And plus…my request is cheaper than a ring," he offered.

She pushed his head away dramatically. "Fine," she agreed with a certain tone of distaste. "I'll just make sure Catherine won't figure it out."

Grissom smirked and went back to the skin on her neck. "Game on."

* * *

"Gil. Where are we going?" Brass asked warily as they drove away from his house in the opposite direction of Grissom's townhouse. He cursed at himself inwardly—annoyed and irritated that packing a couple of bags with clothes had gotten him so exhausted. 

Without taking his eyes off the road, Grissom replied awkwardly, "There's something I've been meaning to tell you." He paused briefly, watching Brass' eyebrows raise in the corner of his eye. "I bought a new house."

The exhaustion seemed to warp into curiosity. "Oh?"

Grissom gave a semi-shrug as he changed lanes. "Well…half of it." Stopping at a red light he risked a glance at his friend in the passenger's seat.

Brass' eyebrows rose higher than expected, and his mouth shifted upward in what Grissom could only describe as either a painful smile, or a sympathetic grimace. He sighed and then chuckled lightly—his voice still pretty hoarse. "So…I get shot, and you get a new girlfriend plus a house?" Grissom accelerated as the light turned green, and Brass grinned at his friend's discomfort. "Well it's true what they say. The world is full of surprises."

"Jim…"

"Hey, I'm not judging," he coughed. "So, do I get the pleasure of meeting the poor—I mean lucky—lady?"

"Good to see that you haven't changed, Jim. You're still not funny."

"Jealousy doesn't go with that face of yours, Gil. And you still didn't answer my question."

The only reply Brass got was the patented eyebrow raise.

They drove in comfortable silence for the majority of the ride. Brass tried to whistle at the sight of the fairly huge house as the car rolled up the driveway. Annoyed with his chapped lips and sore throat, he took a sip of the water bottle Grissom had provided when he was picked up. As the garage door opened, he sputtered and coughed at the sight of a very hideous yet familiar-looking Toyota Prius.

Grissom parked his Mercedes next to it, killed the engine, and walked around to open Brass's door. Brass gave him a look, noticing Grissom's slight blush of embarrassment as he got out of the car. "I'll get your bags," Grissom murmured.

After his arms were full and the garage was shut, he led Brass through the door that led into the laundry room. "How long?" he asked nonchalantly.

Grissom set the bags down on top of the dryer. "Almost 11 months now."

"Cuh…"

At his surprised huff, Grissom smirked. "We know how to be discreet."

"No kidding."

He opened the other door to lead to the rest of the house, a cool wave of AC hitting him the moment he did. Grissom grinned as their topic of conversation approached him. Sara smiled at Brass awkwardly, clearly embarrassed as a light hue of red graced her cheeks.

"I'm guessing he told you."

Brass smirked and jerked his thumb behind him, "Nah, I figured it out myself. That hideous hunk of metal was a dead give-away."

Sara frowned at how hoarse and tired he sounded. She reached over to loop her arm through his. "It's an _efficient_ hunk of metal. C'mon, I'll show you to your room."

Grissom grinned at his best friend and girlfriend's retreating backs as they headed down the hall. He let out a sigh of contentment, because for once in his life, that's what he was—content. No. He was more than content—he was happy.

Brass grinned as he examined the house. It wasn't about to win any prize on interior design, but it was obvious that what little taste Sara had in homes had reflected in their house. Unlike Grissom's townhouse, this house eluded a warm feeling with hardwood floors and soft colors. "Not bad," he stated as Sara led him into the guest room.

She grinned, "It's your home for the next couple of weeks."

"Great," he muttered.

"Jim…" Sara frowned sympathetically. "I didn't mean it that way."

He waved his hand and shrugged it off. "I know what you meant. And you're right; this is going to be my home. I can barelylift my shirt over my head…so let's face it: I need your help."

"Don't worry, I won't mother you," she replied grinning.

"Good to know…seeing how I'm old enough to be _your _father." He eased himself slowly onto the bed, kicking off his shoes and laying back on the pillows.

"Can I get'cha anything?"

"No, but thank you. I think I'm just going to take a nap, Sara." He let his eyelids close slowly. "Been a long day."

She smiled warmly at him when he put his arm protectively over his chest. "Well, Gris and I will be next door if you need anything."

She heard him grunt in disgust as she was about to close the door. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Jim."

As the door clicked shut, he smiled contently and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

Brass awoke to a throbbing in his chest. He groaned as he sat up and snatched his painkillers from the bed-side table. Popping two into his mouth, he swallowed them dry and headed down the hall to seek out his roommates. 

"Gil?" he called as he entered the living room. Frowning at the empty room, he meandered into the kitchen to help himself to a cup of water. Walking back down the hall, he paused at the last door—light murmurs wafting through the crack on the bottom.

"Sara…"

He steppedcloser and put his ear up against the door.

"Shhh…honey….."

"Oh. GOD!" came Sara's hushed scream.

"Jim's…next door."

Jumping away from the door like he had been burned, Brass shivered.

* * *

"Well, we are _never_ doing that again!" Sara huffed, still out of breath. 

Rolling his naked body off hers, Grissom grinned. "Never?"

"Not until Jim leaves!" she retorted. "I thought you said we were going to be celibate for the next two weeks or so!"

"You came onto me…" he said evenly. "…In more ways than one." Sara glared at him. He caught her gaze and laughed, "Ok, so I lied. It's harder than I thought it was going to be."

Sara scowled as she threw on her robe. "This was a bad idea…" Grissom cocked an eyebrow at her as he propped himself up on his elbow. "He's been here for what?..." She glanced at the clock resting on the bedside table, "..._three hours_! Can you imagine another two weeks?"

Grissom swung his feet off the bed, "Well then, we don't have to be celibate."

"And what? Give Brass a heart-attack to match the hole in his chest!" She elbowed him as he wrapped his arms around her stomach. "Do you know how loud you are?"

"Me?" Grissom jumped back and put on his best wounded face. "I'm not the one screaming another man's name out in the middle of a climax."

Sara frowned, "Did not!"

Grissom grinned as he headed for the bathroom, "Did too." He turned and cleared his throat, "Oh…_God_! Oh _God _yes…"

He snickered as Sara dove at him, her fist aimed at his midsection. Grissom let out a full-fledged laugh at the sight of her beet-red face. "Would you shut it? Brass is next door!" Sara said in a hushed whisper.

"Oh relax," he said as he gave her a peck on the lips. "He's asleep."

Sara glared at his retreating back before she followed him into the bathroom. "Dibs on showering first," she declared, feeling extremely foolish.

Grissom simply cocked his eyebrow at her and stepped into the awaiting stream of water. He poked his head out and grinned, "I got here first. Of course…you can always join me."

Feeling an urge to stick her tongue out at him, Sara settled for a smirk. "That's okay, I'll use the spare bath—thank you very much."

She could sense his pout as she retreated out of the bathroom, snatching her towel off the rack in the process. As she walked past the guest bedroom, Sara listened for any movements. Silence greeted her. She smiled as she headed into their second bathroom, assuming Jim was still asleep.

She kicked the door behind her with her foot; barely nudging it closed and stripped off her robe. Just as she was about to turn on the water, she heard the door behind her creak open, followed by a "Jesus!"

Sara gasped at the sound of Brass's voice, snatched her robe, and re-covered her body hastily. "Sara, jeez…I'm sorry—I didn't know you were in here," Brass babbled, one arm draped over he's eyes. "I figured you and Gil would use the bathroom in your bedroom," he added, still blindly backing away across the hall and into his bedroom. Reaching his room door, he quickly slammed it shut, saying a last "sorry," before the door closed.

Sara stood there, her face beet red and mouth slacked-jawed. She gritted her teeth as her mood to shower completely vanished. 'So much for not giving Brass a heart attack,' she fumed inwardly. She trudged back toward her bedroom and locked the door. Seeing that Grissom was still in the middle of his shower, she smirked and flushed the toilet.

"Argh!" he yelped. A second later, his soap-sudded head poked out through the shower certain. He glared at her, "What was that for!"

Sara glared back, "_That_ was for not letting me use the shower first." Her face started to heat up again, "Because of you, Brass just got a free show of my bare backside!"

At first his face scrunched up and his mouth twisted. She thought she saw a hint of jealously and a bit of anger in Grissom's usually stoic features, but then his lip started to tremble and his body started to shake.

"You think this is funny!"

He retracted his head back through the curtain. "Of course not honey."

"Oh yes you do! You're laughing!" Sara grabbed the ends of the shower curtain and pulled it back.

His boyish grin greeted her, "Well, it is kind of funny if you think about it."

"You're best friend just saw what's for your eyes only…and you think it's funny?" she asked disbelievingly.

Rinsing his hair, he cocked at eyebrow at her with his eyes closed—further feeding her growing irritation. "Well, you weren't facing him right? I'd be jealous otherwise—your frontal view is much sexier."

Sara gasped and flushed the toilet again. Grissom yelped as the scalding hot water yet again pierced his skin. "So I'm allowed to wiggle my naked ass to anyone, is that it? I'll remember that…"

"I didn't say that," Grissom pouted and raised his finger that her. "What Brass saw was a mere accident." He shrugged, "Would you rather have me be angry?"

"No."

He smirked as his face donned its famous "see, I'm right again" look.

Sara rolled her eyes at him as she left the bathroom, but not before flushing the toilet one more time and smirking at his angry yelp.

* * *

Later that night, Grissom, Sara, and Brass all arrived early to CSI. Though he was in no condition to start working again, Brass decided he should pay "the family" all a visit. Ever since he accidentally walked in on Sara in the bathroom, he hasn't been able to make eye contact with her since. Grissom, however, seemed to enjoy the fact he was uncomfortable—which made him question his best friend's sanity. 

He and Grissom entered the empty break room, taking a seat opposite from each other as they waited for Sara to arrive in her own vehicle. "Relax Jim, it was an accident."

Brass glanced up at him, "I'm surprised you're taking it so well."

"Do you have any romantic interests in Sara?"

He huffed, "Uhh, nooo."

"Well then," Grissom held his hands out as he leaned back, "I'm not mad. And you should stop feeling awkward and at least look at her."

Brass shook his head just as Sara breezed in the room, "You've changed so much, it actually scares me."

Sara grinned at Brass as she sat down in the furthest seat from Grissom. "Don't worry, he's the same old grouch at work." Remembering his out-of-character persona about a mouth ago, she added, "Usually."

Brass shook his head, "I have no doubt about that…I mean, 11 months. You would think a bunch of trained investigators would figure it out by now."

"You didn't," Grissom stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "And speaking of which, Sara and I have a wager going on, so just remember not to give anything away when the team's around."

"First of all, I'm not a CSI. And second, what wager?"

Sara grinned, "Grissom seems to think that Catherine would figure us out first." She shot him a look, "I personally think it'd be Nick or Greg. But since Nicky would never call us out on it, I think it'd be Greg."

"Huh…"

"Catherine has too much personal stuff of her own to be worrying about ours," Sara added, raising an eyebrow at Grissom's direction.

Brass laughed, holding his chest as he did so. Sara and Grissom glanced at him worriedly, but he waved them off, "It's nothing." He paused and collected himself, "So can I be part of this wager?"

Sara furrowed her brows at him, "Depends, what would you want as a reward?"

"Nothing," Brass held his hands up. "Just bragging rights. The fact that a detective out-witted two CSIs."

Grissom grinned, "Fair enough. Who's your pick?"

"Nick and Warrick are still available," Sara added as she leaned back in her seat.

Brass shook his head, "Neither. I pick Sofia."

Grissom cocked his eyebrow, and Sara visibly tensed. "A detective over two CSIs...? Are you sure, Jim?"

He grinned, "Positive."

Grissom gave a nod in consensus just as Catherine breezed into the room with Warrick following behind her. He was grinning as Catherine continued to yap into her phone, obviously not pleased with whoever was on the receiving end. "Let's finish this conversation later, young lady," she practically snarled and snapped her phone shut.

Just then, Nick and Greg entered, seeking out their assignments for the night. Nick donned a smile until he almost ran into Catherine, "Whoa…what rained on your parade, Cath?"

Warrick and Greg took the two empty seats next to Brass after giving both giving him a manly hug and telling him it was good to see him up and about. "_Feels_ good to be up and about," he replied.

Catherine smiled and walked over to give him a more womanly embrace. "You look great, Jim. Has Gil been feeding you?"

"Actually he isn't doing much cooking these days." Brass smiled as he saw Gil's head jerk in the corner of his eyes.

Catherine looked from Grissom to Brass questioningly before shrugging. "Takeout food then?"

"You can say that."

Catherine grinned and settled on the couch as Nick walked over and patted his shoulder, repeating much of what everyone else said. Brass smiled, feeling loved by his little makeshift CSI family—it wasn't perfect, but it was the family he never had.

"So what's up with your sour mood Cath?" Nick asked as he walked toward the fridge.

"Lindsey wants to get a tattoo," she huffed angrily. "And if she didn't need the money from me, she'd already have one!"

Warrick shrugged, "Tattoos aren't that bad."

"Yeah yeah yeah…but what's next?" Catherine replied, gesturing wildly and counting off her fingers. "Tattoo, nose ring, tongue ring…AIDs…" She shook her head and trailed off.

"You can have a tattoo and still come off as classy," Greg added. "Right Sara?"

Brass grinned as he noticed Sara shifting uncomfortably, "How would I know?"

Greg rolled his eyes, "When I said I didn't see anything in the shower, I meant anything _inappropriate_." He winked at her, "Your feet were fair game."

Brass practically laughed as he saw Grissom's jaw clenched. Apparently, an old hag like himself seeing the entire length of Sara's backside unclothed wasn't a threat…but Greg Sanders seeing her bare feet unnerved him.

Grissom pretended to be uninterested in the conversation as he donned his glasses and sifted through the assignment sheets in front of him. "Hmm, I never thought I'd say this…but I'm kind of jealous that Greg was the one that had to be decontaminated in a freezing cold hazmat shower," Nick said as he too winked at Sara.

The slips in Grissom's hands crinkled a bit as he pursed his lips.

"Wait. Wait a minute; you have a tattoo, Sara?" Catherine asked incredulously.

Brass pretended to be lost in thought and seized the opportunity, "Actually, she as two."

All eyes were suddenly directed at him, including a gaping Sara's and Grissom's. He tried not to grin as he put on his acting skills, "I mean—you know. What? Well, she does," he babbled out, purposely trying to stammer.

Greg turned to Sara, "So where is this second tattoo?"

"None of your business," she said through gritted teeth while sending a glare toward Brass.

Catherine's eyebrows shot up, "Somewhere for your lover's eyes only, huh?"

What meant to be a joke on Catherine's part made everyone raise their eyebrows and dart their eyes from Brass to Sara.

After an uncomfortable silence, Grissom cleared his throat. "Greg, Nick…decomp in an abandoned alley off the strip,"he said, giving both men a glarebefore handingNick the slip.Catherine…missing persons in Henderson. Warrick, Sara…you have a 419 at the Monaco. I'll meet you there after I take Jim home."

Greg continued to stare at Brass and Sara, but soon followed a groaning Nick out the door. Catherine shook her head disbelievingly for a second before following suit. Warrick snatched the assignment slip from Grissom as held out his keys, "I know, you're driving right?"

Giving Brass a final discreet glare, she stood up and presented a smile in Warrick's direction, "Yeah, picture that huh?"

Warrick chuckled at her as they headed for the parking lot. Brass grinned at Grissom as the room emptied out. "I didn't give anything away," he said upon seeingthe glare he was getting from the entomologist.

"No…no you didn't."

Brass shrugged, "Sorry, I didn't mean to. It kind of slipped."

"Really?" Grissom questioned sarcastically. "Because I noticed it didn't slip while Sofia was present."

Brass laughed, realizing it was hard to ever get anything past Grissom. "You never said I couldn't confuse my opponent's picks."

Grissom pursed his lips at him and stood, "Fine…_three_ can play that game."

"What? You and Sara going to plant false evidence to throw off Sofia, too?"

"Maybe," Grissom smirked slightly.

Brass stood up with him, "Gil…please. Give me a little credit here." He straightened out his jacket and grinned, "Sara only speaks to Sofia on cases. Anything other than that would be considered weird. And as for you…do you really want to be throwing false hints to a woman who was, and most likely still is, interested in you?"

Grissom halted in his tracks and frowned at Brass.

"What can I say?" Brass patted his friend on the shoulder. "If I learned anything from Warrick…it's how to win a bet."

* * *

TBC...

**Let me know what ya'll think. Thanks :).**


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